After the Fall of Olympus

by Killthespares

The League has fallen. The team is dead. All that's left is for Dick Grayson to pick up the pieces and move forward. Easier said than done. AU: Failsafe Actually Happened

2. Year 2: Robin Must Die

A/N: General Warning for Gotham villains being...well, Gotham villains with all the varying creepiness that entails (including threats of violence and violence towards minors). Also, warning for more discussions of grief and general depressing-ness. I promise the story will get progressively lighter but it's still pretty dark for now.

Ages of major characters:
Dick Grayson (Robin): 15
Roy Harper (Red Arrow): 19
Donna Troy (Troia): 16
Garth (Tempest): 17
Jade Nguyen (Cheshire): 20
Zatanna Zatara: 16
Raquel Ervin (Rocket): 17
Barbara Gordon: 15

ooooo

This pillow sucks.

It's not soft at all and weird groves are pressing into his cheek. All of this is particularly annoying since the alarm clock is probably going to go off sooner rather than later which means that the final moments of Dick's rest are being ruined by a stupid, way too hard pillow.

"Master Dick, I can't imagine that to be the most effective method of research."

"Whaa…." His head shoots up.

Alfred is looking down at him with a single eyebrow raised.

Dick looks at the butler then down to his uncomfortable pillow-er, he means keyboard. The keyboard which is hooked up to the cave computer. The computer where he was supposed to be researching the recent string of robberies. And not falling asleep.

Right.

"Far be it for me to question your vigilantism, young sir," Alfred drawls, "but perhaps a good night's rest might be in order rather than your usual evening patrol."

"It's fine, Alfred," he says, making sure to look at least a little bit apologetic, "I'm good. I was out late with the Titans taking care of the Cult of Kobra stuff."

"Another reason a break might be a good idea."

He grimaces. "I can't. I'm pretty sure the Royal Flush Gang is behind the robberies. If they follow their pattern, they'll strike the Gotham First bank tonight."

Alfred looks at the screen rather sharply. The search page still shows a random string of letters from Dick's impromptu nap earlier.

Dick takes the hint.

"Look, I'll just stop Royal Flush, wait for the cops to get there, and then come right back and get some sleep. I promise. I won't even patrol after."

Quite obviously deciding that's as good as he's going to get, the butler sighs and offers a small nod.

Dick grins, hopping up and heading off toward the R-cycle while slipping on his mask. By the time Alfred makes it back up stairs, he's suited up, out of the cave, and heading toward Gotham First bank.

Alfred's worrying too much. Dick can handle some sleep deprivation now and again. Besides, the Royal Flush Gang is important….and so were the Cult of Kobra shipments….and so are his Gotham patrols….and training with the Titans. Alright, he might get Alfred's point a little.

But, the thing is everything's going really well right now. Better than well, actually. It's been five months since the Titan's first mission and the team is starting to come together. Zatanna's getting faster and better with her spells. Raquel's taking to training like a force of nature. Garth and Donna are adjusting quickly to their new home. Roy's as good as ever and Jade's finally getting a handle on working with a team.

And Dick….well, every successful mission has him feeling a little bit more like he can actually do this. Like he can lead a team into more than just a suicide mission.

If that isn't worth a few less hours of sleep, he doesn't know what is.

The R-cycle pulls into the alley by Gotham First a few seconds before the alarm sirens go off.

Which means Dick's late. Great.

The Royal Flush Gang is the latest but not the first of Gotham's….more eccentric residents to start work again under the cover of Gotham's night, this time absent one prominent bat.

Dick feels like he's being tested.

It's Gotham, he's not putting it passed her.

Last month, it was a close call with Two Face. The month before that it was Clayface. Before that, Mr. Freeze. Then, the Mad Hatter. Then, Killer Croc and so on and so on.

Batman's rogue gallery is coming back. And this time, Robin is facing them alone.

He's been doing alright so far. A few close calls but they were all back in their cells for however long that was going to last. But, Dick knows that all it will take is one time , just one second too slow, just one wrong move and that's it. He doesn't have backup waiting for him anymore. Not in Gotham at least.

That's why nights like this are important , he thinks, letting out his signature cackle just to watch how one of the gang fires randomly up at the ceiling, missing him by a mile.

Nights like this are a message. To show everyone that Robin can handle things like this. Villains like this. That Gotham can lose Batman and still keep standing. That Dick's strong enough to keep Gotham safe.

He pulls up his wrist computer and cuts the power to the bank.

To prove it to everyone . Dick drops down from the ceiling, landing his foot right in the King of Spade's face.

Ten minutes later, the police finally show up only to find a tied up and partially unconscious Royal Flush Gang.

Commissioner Gordon's the only one that looks to the roof and Dick waves back cheerfully before launching off to the next building over.

He's grinning. He needs nights like these where plans go off without a hitch, villains are caught, and Dick comes out without even a scratch. Perfect.

The R-cycle's already locked away in one of the many storage units Batman kept around the city and Dick...Dick feels like flying.

He front flips off of one of the higher roofs, letting gravity try to pull him down before he fires a new line.

Alfred's going to be thrilled. Dick's going to be back so early he'll even have time to sleep for a full four hours. That'll be awesome. Maybe then he can revamp the training program for the Titans. Or go over his brief for the meeting in Atlantis. Or run another check on Blackgate's new security program.

He almost laughs. Maybe he can even do his homework. That'll be nice. Definitely make Alfred happy. Maybe even Bruce will-

Dick slips on a patch of wet tiles and falls off the roof.

A last second twist and a creative use of a batarang slows his fall and has him landing hard on an overhang three stories below rather than the pavement five stories down.

"...Ow."

ooooo

"...so to conclude, public opinion is still highly in favor and the team continues to function successfully."

Queen Mera regards him pointedly.

"Oh, and Garth seems to be taking to the surface well," Dick tacks on.

She sighs, newborn baby Artur shifting slightly in her arms. "Robin, I know when we set the terms of the new alliance, I stipulated semi-annual progress updates; but, I really would've understood if you had to postpone. Especially, since Garth tells me you're injured."

"It was just some bruised ribs and a sprain," he reassures quickly. "I'm fine. Garth already healed most of it."

"As talented as he is, Garth was still my apprentice." She waves her free hand in a complicated movement and Dick feels the last ache in his ribs soothe away as if it was never there.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Queen Mera waves the words away. "I'll admit when you began your leadership of the Titans, I presumed that the team would also begin helping you in Gotham. Not that you'd be trying to do both at once."

He frowns. "Crime rates in Gotham are still down and the team has a perfect mission success rate."

"I'm not arguing your accomplishments; I'm arguing their continued probability."

"I can do it," Dick says simply.

"You need help," she returns just as bluntly.

He shifts slightly on his feet. "Your Majesty, as highly trained as the Atlanteans are, metas in Gotham is a really terrible-"

Queen Mera snorts, the sound strikingly undignified in the opulent palace.

"Oh please, my offer wasn't for my people to swim in Gotham's sewage infested harbors. You can keep them for yourself."

Dick relaxes. "Then, what were you offering?"

"Something much more basic. Advice. From one ally to another...and from someone else who knows quite a bit about taking up responsibilities in the face of loss."

Baby Artur coos softly and the Queen of Atlantis looks down at him with a smile before turning back to Dick.

"If you try to balance too much alone, then it is inevitable that something will fall," Queen Mera says. "Leading the Titans. Protecting Gotham. Either of those tasks are work enough on their own, not to mention the last one you insist on doing alone. If you continue to try them both together…"

She trails off but the implication is clear.

"I can do it," he repeats. "Both of them."

"Maybe," she says, "but then again you also have to find time to eat and sleep."

Dick smiles. "Trust me, Your Majesty, I find time to sleep just fine."

ooooo

"Dick?"

This pillow wasn't that comfortable either.

"Dick?"

Still, definitely better than the keyboard. Smoother if a bit cool and-

"Dick!"

Dick's eyes flew open, cataloging his surroundings immediately.

"Um, hi, Babs?"

Barbara Gordon stood above him, hands on her hips. "If you're done taking a nap, class is about to start."

He groans, laying his head back on the desk. "Then, why'd you wake me up?"

"Crazy enough, some people actually believe listening to class is necessary ."

Dick narrows his eyes, not believing her for a second. This is math class. He and Barbara could have tested out of it years ago if Bruce hadn't thought it was important for Dick's cover and Barbara's dad hadn't wanted her to overwork herself. If there's a surefire class for him to sleep through, it's math. Well, that or computer science. Or chemistry. Dick's Robin training had always been pretty advanced.

The point is that, apart from a few aggravated comments about class conduct, Barbara normally lets him sleep.

He continues to stare at her until she finally gives him a sidelong glance.

"The teachers are acting nervous," she admits under her breath. "The principal and vice principal have already been around twice to check the classrooms."

Dick feels completely awake now. "You think something happened at the school….something they're trying to hide?"

Barbara nods. "Either something's already happened or they think we're in danger."

He itches to pull up his wrist computer and check into the official Gotham police channels but there's no way he can slip away without Barbara noticing.

This would be a really terrible time for her to find out her best friend's a superhero.

Dick looks over to Barbara, who's furiously typing on her phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking Gotham's police channels," Barbara says. "Duh. I hacked into them ages ago."

Dick grins. Barbara's awesome.

Her phone vibrates and her eyes flicker briefly across the screen before stopping. "...Never mind. Looks like there's no need. They just issued a news report."

As she says it, his phone-along with the majority of their class-buzzes.

Dick pulls up the report and his chest tightens as he sees Gotham Elementary School.

And then he reads the report.

Beside him, Barbara swears. "Dick, this looks really bad."

Posted in bright colors at the top of the report is a picture of Gotham's elementary school playground with large letters smeared across the pavement in what's very obviously blood.

Robin Must Die.

ooooo

The public is in a state of panic. Gotham's police department immediately issues a general statement that yes, Robin is alive, well, and-most importantly-still able to patrol.

Dick likes to think there's some general concern there, hidden under Gotham's many layers of self preservation. He gets it. They just lost their biggest hero a little over a year and a half ago; they're understandably terrified of going through it again so soon.

As soon as the sky gets well and truly dark, Robin drops down lightly on the roof of the police precinct.

Commissioner Gordon's already waiting on him

"Good," he says. "You are alright. I really didn't want that statement to be a lie."

"I'm okay," he reassures.

Gordon sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I take it you've already done your own preliminary analysis."

Dick nods.

Pig's blood. Thankfully, the words were just in pig's blood. Based on the results, likely from a breed of pigs not traditionally sold in the Gotham area. That was good; that was a clue.

"Thank all the saints, it wasn't worse," Gordon says, interrupting Dick's train of thought. "With this city, you can never be too sure. Video security footage of the school was erased, by the way. Night security was found unconscious and tied up in a cleaning closet. Both men say they were hit from behind. Based on their statements and the hours missing, we're thinking it was between four and five in the morning."

Dick had already tracked the traffic footage from around the school at that time but it looked like anyone who came through either traveled by foot or knew how to avoid the cameras. Both options would point to a Gotham local.

"Robin?"

He looks up as the Commissioner rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking a lot older than Dick ever noticed.

"Look, you okay, kid," Gordon asks. "I don't mean physically. Threats like this can shake even an experienced officer."

"I'm fine," Dick says. "I just want to focus on catching whoever did this."

Gordon hesitates for another second before speaking again.

"I'm sorry about Batman, by the way….Don't think I ever told you back then. He was a good man. A good friend."

Dick swallows. His eyes, under the mask, shifting imperceptible to focus on the roof behind the man rather than Gordon himself.

"Thank you."

Gordon nods. "You're doing good work, kid. Don't let this city kill you for it."

He looks like he wants to say something more but then Dick's comm pings in his ear. He taps it, listening to the message.

"I gotta go," he says, already heading to the roof's edge. "There's a situation in Patras where they need the Titans."

Gordon hums, head turning down. "Well, that's different. Normally, I don't get a warning before one of you disappears." He looks back up. "Go on, then and-"

Robin is already gone.

Dick hears the echo of the Commissioner's chuckle as he swings away to the nearest zeta tube.

ooooo

"So, this is new."

Roy raises an eyebrow and releases his shot. "Are you complaining?",

Thirty yards away, an arrow impales an android straight in the eye before exploding to take out its new neighbors.

"No," Dick takes out another with a well placed batarang. "But, seriously, Ivo must really be losing his touch. I'm unimpressed."

"Emphasis on the un ," Donna teases before ducking quickly as an android aims an Amazon powered kick at her head.

"Ivo hasn't adjusted his methods yet," Roy says. "These guys were designed for a team with more metas. He'll learn. I'm sure."

A moment later, Garth is thrown back and hits the wall hard enough to leave cracks. "All of you, please stop insinuating that the super powered robots sent to kill us should be better at it."

Above them, Zatanna finishes the spell to take down another two, one getting alarmingly close to a downed Garth. Dick moves closer to give him time to recover.

It's true. Ivo's newest Amazo androids were obviously expecting more meta powers to copy. With a team consisting of three regular humans, one Atlantean, one Amazonian, one belt-assisted meta, and one magic user who's powers apparently didn't compute with the android's programming, the robots are severely under powered.

But, an army of androids is still an army of androids and Amazonian and Atlantean powers aren't anything to sneeze at.

Dick throws two more batarangs, embedding in the metal before letting out an electric pulse to fry the circuitry.

His comm beeps.

"Robin," he answers..

"It's Cheshire. We found Ivo. Rocket has him secured. I'm working on shutting them down remotely."

"Copy. Estimated time?"

"Now," answers the cool voice and in less than a second, the androids all stop moving as if someone had cut their cord. Which, effectively, is exactly what happened.

"Androids are stopped," Dick reports over the comms. "Nice job. Drop Ivo off at the nearest holding unit and meet back at the Tower."

"Copy," comes Raquel's voice. "See you in a bit."

Dick clicks the comm back off, turning to the remaining team. "Troia, you mind grabbing one of the droids for the road? I want to catalog any changes he made."

"Sure, Rob, make me do the heavy lifting," Donna says with a wink, lifting what had to be easily a three hundred pound robot as if it were a practice dummy.

Garth eyes it skeptically. "You sure it's a good idea to keep the formerly murderous robot in the Tower?"

Dick pauses. Okay, fair point.

"Second thought, drop it off at the League's old arctic test center. Should only be accessible by zeta."

Zatanna smiles. "I'll come with. I, um, always love going to the arctic."

Behind the mask, Dick narrows his eyes. "Alright. Meet back in the Tower when you're done."

He waits until the three are gone before turning to Roy.

"And then, there were two. Amazing coincidence that. Especially since I never remember Zatanna caring about the arctic. In fact, last mission there I think she called it an 'abandoned frozen wasteland'.'"

Roy shrugs. "The team might have wanted me to talk to you."

"About what," he asks, just restraining a sigh.

"About what? You got a death threat this morning. We still get the news even in Star City, you know."

"It's Gotham," Dick waves him away. "I get death threats all the time. It's basically how they say hello."

"It was written in blood."

"Okay, an enthusiastic hello."

"Dick," Roy groans.

Dick smiles. And if the smile looks just a bit too tense than it should. A bit wild. A bit desperate. Then he….well, he just hopes Roy can figure out why.

"I'm fine," he says again and for what feels like the millionth time. "I'm fine."

Roy sighs, giving him a look that tells Dick he sees right through him.

"No, you're not," Roy says. "But, what you are is a stubborn asshole. And I'm the idiot lucky enough to know that when you're like this, you're not going to listen to reason until something comes by and proves you wrong."

Dick winces but doesn't say anything in denial.

"When you do realize it though, I'll be there. So will the team," Roy says, slinging the bow back over his back. "And not all of us are metas. I'm sure Gotham could handle me and Cheshire stopping by every now and then."

Dick smirks, grabbing the chance to deflect and hoping Roy lets him. "Oh, both you and Cheshire?"

Roy blushes red enough to match his hair. "Shut up. It just...it just kinda happened, okay?"

Dick cackles, heading for the zeta beam.

He pauses right before stepping in, turning back to look at the fallen robots.

"Hey, Roy? The team did good today, didn't they? Even better than last month with Mr. Twister. They're….they're coming together."

Roy comes up behind him, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah, Rob. We did good."

ooooo

Sitting in the cave a few nights later, Dick hums slightly under his breath while he runs a maintenance check on his utility belt. The local radio is turned on in the background, playing out some hit song he vaguely recognizes.

"Alright, Gothamites ," announces a way too cheerful voices, "time for our daily evening segment, 'The Batwatch'...though I guess we might as well call it 'The Birdwatch' now. Call in and share your thoughts. First we have Lucy from Midtown"

Dick groans, standing up to change it before the first call chimes in.

"Poor Robin! Like my little sister goes to Gotham Elementary and she's going to have nightmares for weeks! I can't imagine how he feels. It's amazing he's still even here!"

"Thank you, Lucy, and we have our next caller: Winston from Burnley District."

"I mean I think the real question isn't why Robin's still here, it's can he be? He's a kid. It made sense when Batman was still alive but now, it's just weird. It's Batman andRobin, you know? Robin alone doesn't really work."

"Moving on to Stephen from Old Gotham."

"Agreed. How can Robin even operate without Batman? He can't. It just doesn't function long term and now, we're finally seeing it. Really, it's the Gotham PD that should be stepping up and-"

Dick turns off the radio.

ooooo

If there's one good thing about being left a message in blood, it's that blood has a lot of traceable elements. Based on the levels of coagulation, the pig's blood was older and had been frozen at least once before. That suggests some kind of meat locker. And the only place in Gotham that had sold that particular type of pig breed was an old butcher shop in Gotham's East End, shut down last year when the owner was arrested on organized crime charges.

The shop was still technically tied up in the investigation so closed off and unable to be sold, not that anyone would really want to buy a shop so close to Crime Alley.

Dick suspects the shop isn't quite as abandoned as reported.

He drops down into the alley beside the shop, checking through a tear in taped up windows. No one home. Or, at least, no movement and the lights are off.

He slips inside.

The front of the shop still looks perfectly normal. The counter and display shelf are there, stripped bare and covered with a layer of dust. The ground however…

Dick pulls out a flashlight, looking at the dirt on the tiled floor to see shoe prints. Someone has been here recently. Probably multiple male adults, judging by the size and different set of prints.

The prints lead to the back of the store, back where the meat locker would be.

Dick moves in the direction, keeping an ear out for visitors.

He hears the flies before anything else.

Sitting in front of the closed meat locker is a black plastic trash bag emitting the distinct smell of rotting meat. Dick wrinkles his nose, coming closer and carefully cutting open the bag to see...yep, dead pig, same breed, and definitely showing signs of exsanguination.

Well, that solves one disgusting question.

He tilts his head, still eyeing the closed meat locker. Whoever had been working out of here, they'd obviously abandoned it along with the rotting trash. Still….Batman had always taught him to be thorough.

Dick opens the meat locker.

The first thing he notes is that this clearly hadn't been used as just a meat locker. And that fact alone is terrifying enough. There's cords everywhere, showing that someone had been handling some heavy electronics here earlier. Work tables line the walls on one side of the room, no dust on them indicating recent use. Everything had been cleared out now, probably around the time the message was placed. All that was left was a piteously wilted desk plant, forgotten in the corner.

Something breaks under Dick's boot and he looks down to see part of a beaker.

A lab. Someone's been running a lab out of the back of the shop.

Making what, though?

He reaches in his utility belt and pulls out a some swabs, going to the abandoned work tables to collect any residue they might have left behind.

As he approaches, the plant shoots back up and sprays some kind of liquid right in Dick's face.

Not forgotten , he thinks frantically, knees hitting the ground as his throat starts to close. Plant was decidedly not forgotten.

It was a trap. And Dick had been dumb enough to fall for it.

He's laying on the floor, hands on his utility belt though he doesn't even know what type of poison this is. He tries to catalog the symptoms. Closing throat, sweating, he's pretty sure his temperature's spiking, his vision's going dark and…..

No, no, this isn't good. This isn't good at all. This isn't how he wants to die. Not with the Titans and Gotham and...he hasn't even really helped yet…

There's the sound of a door banging open and Dick turns his head to the sound, even though everything's blurry and hard to make out.

There's a flash of orange so deep its red and Dick has a second to think it's beautiful before he registers a black mask with tips and... Batman?

"Hey! Hey, stay with me what happened? Tell me what's wrong?"

That's not Batman's voice. It's female, younger. It sounds worried and Dick can't ever remember Batman sounding like that. Bruce did but…

"Robin, focus! What happened?"

"Plant," Dick manages to croak out. "Sprayed me. Poison. Probably Ivy."

"Crap! Oh crap, your heart rates really fast. What kind of poison? I thought Poison Ivy only did hormone manipulation stuff."

Dick coughs out something like a laugh if only he had more air. "Not as often...as you think. New stuff."

"New? How do I get an antidote? Who could make one?"

Dick shrugs. Or at least he thinks he does. Everything's getting really dark now. "Cave...Tower, maybe?"

He's falling asleep and the reasons why he shouldn't are becoming increasingly hard to find. Sleep is nice...

"No, Robin! Stay with me. I don't know where the cave is and Titans Tower is like five states away. How do I get you there?"

Dick slurs something that might sound something like, "zeta." It doesn't matter, he feels warm and there's cool hands on his face and he's so tired.

The world goes dark.

ooooo

Dick wakes up with the worst headache he's ever experienced in his entire life.

"Ngh."

The lights above him dim enough that he actually feels motivated enough to open his eyes again and try to see where he is. He stops when he registers a figure sitting beside him and sharpening knives

He falls back to the bed with a groan.

"So, I guess I'm at the Tower."

Jade nods and, in an elegant flip, slides the knife back into the sheath. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Mostly," he says, sitting up again to reach for the water by the bedside. "Went out to investigate a lead, got hit by one of Ivy's plants, and...someone came to help me." Dick frowns. It was a girl, right? And the costume? Had he seen it right or was that just the poison affecting his brain? "Who was she?"

She shrugs. "Don't know. On our side, the Tower received notification that the zeta beam was hacked-"

"The zeta beam was hacked."

"Apparently," Jade says, looking entirely unconcerned. But then again, she tends to always look like that except maybe around Roy. "Then, you fell out at the Tower, unconscious and nearly dead. We took you here to medical and I was able to stabilize you."

"You saved me?"

She smiles but not in a very nice way. "I do know the most about poisons."

….That's true. And terrifying. Once again, he finds himself appreciative that Cheshire decided to swap career paths from horrifying assassin to slightly less horrifying hero.

"Thank you."

"Well," Jade pauses, considering, "we are a team."

Dick smiles.

"So, what's the prognosis," he asks after he finishes the water. "Am I good or still going to fall over dead any second?"

Jade rolls her eyes. "Lucky for you, it was a fast acting poison designed to kill in minutes-"

"Oh, yeah, I'm feeling real lucky."

"-which means that it wasn't designed for any long lasting effects," she finishes. "You should be fine now that it's passed through your system."

"Good," Dick says, stretching and already feeling the urge to get out of bed. He's also starving. "How long was I out for anyway?"

"Roughly thirty hours or so."

His head shoots up. "Wait, then that would make it…."

"Monday, about six a.m."

"Crap," Dick yelps, diving out of the bed and nearly stumbling on his feet.

Jade sighs, reaching over to steady him. "When I said you were fine, I meant the poison. You've still been cramping in a bed for a day."

Yeah, and he can definitely feel those cramps now. But that's not important.

"Why are you in such a hurry," she asks.

"I'm late for school!"

ooooo

Barbara gives him another weird look. The fifth one of the day.

"Are you sure you're okay, Dick?"

"I'm great, Babs. G-R-E-A-T. Great! Why do you ask?"

She stares at him and Dick decides to tone down his grin because it might be getting a hair too close to manic.

"Well, besides the fact that you missed first period…"

"I overslept," he insists.

"You're not, um, sick, are you?"

And then, there's Barbara's patented worried-but-not-going-to-quite-go-out-and-say-it look. The fourth of the day.

Weird, Dick's pretty sure he doesn't look that bad. No one else has said anything.

"I feel fine," he says, honestly. "Why?"

She shrugs, a millisecond too quick to be normal. "Huh, guess it's nothing. I'm just stressed about ah, ballet, I guess."

"Ballet? I thought you quit. You said you were too busy."

Barbara bites her lip. "I joined back."

"That's great," he says, bumping into her shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me? I'll definitely be at your next recital."

"I'm not back full time," she corrects quickly. "Too busy."

"With what?"

"Just…" she gestures wordlessly. "Just busy."

Dick frowns.

Barbara's eyes widen and she points. "Look, there's Alfred. You shouldn't keep him waiting, Dick. I'll see you tomorrow."

He gives her another strange look, but obediently heads over to where he sees Alfred's town car.

"Hey, Alfred," he greets, slipping into the passenger's seat. "Does Barbara seem like she's acting weird to you?"

Alfred raises an eyebrow. "I can assure you, young sir, that you would have a much better chance of measuring that than I would."

"Okay, fair."

"I can say that I am very happy to see you yourself, Master Dick," Alfred says, putting the car into drive. "When I received the call from the Tower, I was quite worried."

"I'm fine, Alfie." He tries to summon up what he hopes is a reassuring grin. "Cheshire already fixed me up and everything. It was just a dumb mistake. My dumb mistake. I'll be more careful next patrol."

Alfred hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Actually," Dick says, face falling into contemplation, "there's another thing. A girl was there. I'm pretty sure she's the one that hacked the zeta system and got me to the Tower."

"Then it is a shame vigilantes don't send fruit baskets. The situation certainly warrants one."

"Yeah, but how did she know I was there?"

Alfred pauses, a finger tapping idly on the wheel. "That is indeed a very good question, young sir."

"Something else," Dick says with a frown. "I'm pretty sure she was dressed like Batman."

ooooo

The next week, dead robins are nailed to every school door in Gotham.

It makes the national news.

Dick's honestly more concerned with the news part than the threat. More attention tends to make Gotham villains eager rather than nervous. Escalation would be bad. Dick can handle some pig's blood and a few dead birds.

Unsurprisingly, not everyone shares these priorities.

"Are you sure you don't want any help," Garth asks, looking wide eyed at the news coverage. The rest of the Titans sit around the table for the weekly team meeting. "I mean yeah, Gotham's harbor sucks, but I think I can manage for at least a few hours."

"I've gotten much better at my force bubbles, too," Raquel says. "I'm sure Dakota City can manage if I miss a day or two."

"Thanks, guys, but I can handle it." He smiles. "Nothing that bad's even happened yet."

"Except you getting poisoned," Jade adds, decidedly unhelpful.

A wince. "Alright, yeah, except for that. Really, though, that was more me not being careful than anything. I'm being much safer now. I don't even have any bruises."

Okay, maybe a few minor ones but nothing big. Taking down even common street thugs still takes some force, after all.

"This still doesn't look good, Robin," Zatanna says, worrying her lip. "I mean these look like pretty serious death threats. Are you sure you don't want one of us...just to come with you on patrol even?"

Dick sighs, rubbing the back of his head. "Look, guys, it's not that I don't appreciate the offer. Trust me, I really do. But Gotham doesn't do well with metas. The everyday criminals see them and get desperate and the more eccentric criminals take it as a challenge and go even crazier. A few years ago, Superman once stopped by for lunch andtwo banks blew up that night. Trust me, you don't want metas in Gotham. It gets bad."

"And this isn't bad," Donna says, gesturing at the monitor just as Robin Must Die shows up. "It's not like they can get much crazier, right?"

He doesn't say anything. Which is really kind of answer enough.

"Well, fuck," Donna says, slumping back in her chair. "Honestly, why don't you just move. You could be anywhere. Paris. New York. The freaking desert would even be better. Gotham sucks."

He grins. "I'm not leaving Gotham. It's home."

"Even if it sucks," Garth mutters.

"Fine," Donna says. "But, then what about Jade and Roy? They're not metas."

Dick stops, unsure how to say that giving Gotham up to another city's heroes feels too much like defeat. Like admitting he failed. That he couldn't hold up the legacy.

His eyes flick over to Roy, who's looking back at him like he understands even if he doesn't necessarily agree.

"I'll call them if it's necessary," Dick concedes eventually. Donna glares. "No, really, I will, I promise. If I need their help, I'll call them."

Donna looks like she's getting ready to argue when Roy puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Give it up," Roy says. "That's as good as we're going to get for now."

Donna rolls her eyes, but stays silent.

"Alright, then," Dick announces, turning back to the group at large, "unless anyone has anything else, I think we're good for this week's meeting. Group training tomorrow at the usual time."

As the meeting ends, the team gradually stands, talking to each other as they do and moving slowly towards the tower's living area. Dick watches them go, checking his wrist computer for the time before heading in the direction of the zeta beam.

A hand catches his shoulder.

"And where do you think you're going, Boy Wonder," Donna asks.

He smiles apologetically. "I gotta go early for patrol. New threat and all, don't want the Gothamites to get worried if they don't see Robin."

"They can wait a bit until your usual patrol hours," Donna says. "Come on, weekly Titans' movie night. It's a tradition."

He hesitates. "What if there's a new lead?"

"Dick," Donna says, voice threateningly sweet and careful not to carry, "our dear, dear fearless leader, please understand I say this with the utmost respect. You nearly died this week. The team watched you nearly die this week. We need to see you're alright and you need a few mind numbing hours where you can focus on something other than the many things trying to kill you. So, no, you will not be missing movie night even if I have to get out my lasso and tie you to the chair myself."

Dick stares at her. Donna smiles back.

"...What movie are we watching," Dick asks.

Donna shrugs. "Who knows? It's Garth's night to choose so probably something with excessive ocean metaphors."

ooooo

A few hours (and one movie) later, Dick is swinging across the skyline of Gotham and taking down low-level criminals. He'll investigate the dead birds more later. Tonight, he has two different goals in mind. The first is to make sure that Gotham knows he's still alive and patrolling. The second….well, let's just say he's following up on a hunch.

A good hunch, apparently, as it only takes a few hours before he catches a glint of red reflecting in the night sky behind him.

He lands in a crouch, turning and waiting.

"I know you're there," he says.

A second passes and nothing happens. Then a few more and finally a figure in black emerges from the darkness.

Dick catches the symbol and his heart beats faster.

The girl in the batsuit smiles. "I guess you figured it out after the incident last week. You're looking much better, by the way."

Dick didn't comment. "How long have you been following me?"

"Just a few months," she says, still smiling. "I had to wait until I was good enough I thought you wouldn't spot me. I must've succeeded if it took this long….or you've been preoccupied."

Months? That was concerning. Very, very concerning that he hadn't been able to notice what was apparently an amateur trailing him for months.

He doesn't say that but the girl shrugs anyway. "It's not like I followed you every night."

"Why are you following me at all?"

"To learn," she says, abruptly serious. "I want to help."

"No. It's too dangerous."

The girl frowns and Dick is sure if it was less dark, he'd see she's glaring. "Like you're one to talk, who saved who last week?"

"And I'm grateful. But that was a mistake on my part that I won't make again. Gotham is dangerous. You need to go home."

"Gotham is my home," she says and yeah, definitely glaring. "Exactly as much as it is yours. You don't have the right to tell me to stop."

He sighs. "I have training. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Then, train me. It's Gotham, everyone gets hurt. I just want to make sure people get hurt less." She shakes her head. "Anyway, this isn't even what I needed to tell you. I've got a lead on the dead robins."

Alright, that's definitely not what he was expecting.

"What is it?"

"Security footage outside a store caught footage of one of the guys putting up the birds," she says, crossing her arms. "No matches on the police database, but I found him anyway. Rory Winston. No arrests but brought in for questioning no less than ten times on various cases over the years, all with one major trend."

He waits.

"All organized crime cases in the South Channel Island district, right off the river."

"The Penguin," Dick says. "He's working for the Penguin."

The girl nods. "Or was. The last time he was brought in was five months ago. Still, I bet the Penguin knows something."

"I'll find out," he promises and then hesitates. "Thanks for the tip but this is still too dangerous for you."

The girl huffs, frustrated. "When are you going to get that I just want to help you? I got you to the zeta, didn't I?"

He cocks his head. "How did you hack the zeta system anyway?"

"I'm good with computers," the girl says simply and she's already walking to the edge of the roof.

"Wait," he calls because he has to know, "why….why that costume? The symbol?"

The girl stops, looking down at the black bat that was so, so familiar to Dick's eyes.

"Well," she says, "I wasn't going to call myself Robinette."

"Then, who are you?"

The girl smiles and it's a little bit sad, a little bit wistful, and a whole lot more determined.

"Call me Batgirl."

ooooo

Alfred sets down a cup of chamomile tea gently on the work table-a subtle reminder that it is getting far past the time Dick should retire for the night.

"I just want to check a few more databases," Dick says, distracted.

"For this….Batgirl, I presume."

"Yeah."

The computer pings, reporting no results found. Again.

He holds back a groan, turning in his chair to face Alfred. "It's like she appeared out of nowhere."

"If what she told you is true, perhaps she did. She certainly wouldn't be the first to be motivated by last year's losses. Something, I believe, you know well."

"The Titans all had training beforehand," Dick argues. "At least some. This girl...I don't know. She was able to navigate the roofs pretty well, so she probably has at least some kind of athletic background. She seems young, maybe about my age but she was able to hack the zeta system and based on her tip, she has access to Gotham's police system."

Alfred hums. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer for the police access. However, as for the former attributes, it is possible she developed the skills prior to her apparent interest in vigilantism. Similar to your acrobatics, young sir."

"But I had Bruce to train me," he mutters, looking down.

Alfred's hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. "You did."

Dick stays silent, reaching for the tea cup more to have something to do than anything else.

"...Alfred. Did...did Bruce ever have to deal with this? When he first started as Batman, I mean. Not the...not the Batgirl stuff but just…" He makes a vague outward gesture that could be the cave or Gotham or everything.

Alfred hesitates. "Master Bruce always had his own way of dealing with matters. A way that I did not always agree with."

"But he managed," Dick says, shoulders slumping. "Even when he first started out, he was already handling it better than I am."

"I never said that, Master Dick" Alfred corrects with a frown. "I'd also like to remind you that Master Bruce had quite a bit more training and did not have the responsibilities of the League during his first years. However, if you want to know what truly helped him manage the most, then that didn't come until a few years later."

"What was it?"

"You," Alfred says softly. "In my opinion, what truly aided Master Bruce the most was having a partner. Batman always needed a Robin."

Dick stares and Alfred smiles back softly.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe it is time for an old man like me to retire for the night. When you are ready, Master Dick, more tea will be waiting upstairs."

Dick nods, not quite able to swallow passed the lump in his throat to bid the man a proper goodnight. He watches as Alfred leaves up the stairs, the entrance to the batcave closing behind him with a soft click.

Dick doesn't know how to say it, doesn't have the words to tell anyone, but a fear that had always been tugging in the back of his mind was now settling into certainty.

If Batman always needed Robin, then Robin always needed Batman, too.

And Batman was gone.

ooooo

"I thought I told you this was dangerous," Dick says, not in any way surprised when Batgirl lands quietly on the roof.

"Oh, please, you really think I'd let you do this without me," she says, taking a seat on the roof beside him. "I've been monitoring this place since before I told you."

He sighs, resigned. It's not like he can really stop her short of knocking her unconscious or handcuffing her to the roof. And in Gotham, either of those options are more dangerous than just letting her tag along. He might as well use it to his advantage.

"So, what do you want anyway?"

"I told you. I want to help." She rolls her eyes under the mask and the expression tugs at something so entirely familiar that Dick has to stop a second as he tries and fails to place it.

He frowns. "Are you trying to join the Titans or something?"

Batgirl snorts. "No, Boy Wonder, you can keep the new league to yourself. I'm a local girl. I just want to protect my home and, honestly, you seem like you could use some help."

The weird thing is the last part isn't even said like a taunt. Her voice goes softer, her eyes gentler. It's almost like she cares about him.

Dick refrains from literally shaking the thought away. The talk with Alfred must still be getting to him.

"So, what's the plan," she asks, obviously deciding she was through with his interrogation for now.

Dick gestures. Across from them, floating just off the docks, is the Iceberg Lounge-home and base of operations to one Oswald Cobblepot, better known as Penguin.

"Penguin's still short on hired thugs since the police raid last month," he says. "That means he's relying on the new top of the line security system."

"Which we're planning on cracking," Batgirl surmises and there's a sharp grin on her face that gives Dick that same weird sense of deja vu.

He nods. "Hack into the system from the roof, drop down, and surprise Penguin in his office with a few questions. That is," his smirk turns challenging, "if you can keep up."

And with that, he's gone-disappearing into the shadows and sneaking across the docks in a series of complicated maneuvers that Bruce taught him during his very first year.

When he makes it onto the roof of the Iceberg Lounge, he's alone. Good, he reminds himself, this was going to be hard enough without him worrying about a fresh faced vigilante getting caught along with it.

Of course, that train of thought doesn't last more than five minutes until she was dropping down beside him and glaring. "You're teaching me how you did that."

Dick shrugs, feeling an odd mix of reluctantly impressed and annoyingly pleased. She is tenacious. That he could at least admit.

Too bad being tenacious didn't stop you from being killed. He knows that from experience.

He breaks into a wiring box on the roof, attaches his wrist computer to it, and gets to work on cracking the security system.

Five minutes later and he's still working and the top of the line security system just might be more difficult than he expected. He can handle it, though. He has to, the lead is too important so he has to figure it out.

"Let me," a voice orders quietly and then Batgirl is pulling on his arm, bringing the keyboard over to her side.

Dick opens his mouth, probably to say something like it's not as easy as it looks, but then there's a sudden ping.

"I'm in," she says, satisfied, before turning to meet his stare. "What? I told you I was good with computers."

His mouth clicks shut. Alright, now, he's definitely at least a little bit impressed.

"Come on," she says, "we've only got twenty minutes before the system does another maintenance check. How are we getting through?"

Soundlessly, he moves to pry open the hatch to the building's ventilation system and drops down. He hears Batgirl follow.

The thing about Gotham's absurdly high number of career criminals is that breaking into their hideouts has become almost second nature by now. Dick barely even has to check the schematics on his computer while he navigates them deftly to the hall in front of the main office-Penguin has actually learned enough not to have a air duct inside his office.

A simple knockout gas gets rid of the two thugs guarding the door and then Dick's dropping down to run a scan through the door and make sure there's no hidden surprises waiting in the office.

One body. Judging by the shape and rather unique bio-metrics, it's almost definitely the Penguin.

He narrows his eyes before turning to Batgirl behind him. "I don't suppose I can convince you to guard the door? Penguin's a threat even alone."

Batgirl gives him a look and Dick shrugs, handing her a spare gas mask. "Worth a shot."

Without the alarm system, he easily picks open the door to the office. He throws in another knockout gas, a lighter one this time meant to disorent, and uses the smoke to cloak his entrance. Batgirl's right behind him.

If all goes according to plan, the gas will disorient the Penguin and give Dick enough time to secure him just long enough to question him about the dead birds.

The smoke is starting to clear and Dick moves in closer, readying a batarang behind his back.

The smoke clears. Penguin is sitting at his desk, wearing a gas mask.

Oh.

The Penguin regards him as if he's a particularly irritating stain on his suit. He sighs heavily, slipping off the gas mask and sitting it on his desk. "Look, we could do the usual show and dance. I try to kill you, you try to stop me. But, frankly, I'm a busy man who's been made significantly more busy by idiotic cops and their imbecilic raids. I haven't had time to set up my new operation and do not have the time to entertain a child," he gives an assessing look to Batgirl, "or children , I should say, no matter how meddlesome they can be. Ask your questions and leave."

Dick blinks. Okay, not quite what he was planning but who's he to look a gift penguin in the mouth.

"What do you know about Rory Winston?"

Penguin snorts, already turning back to his desk. "An idiot. One of my former employees and an incompetent one at that."

"Former?"

"Yes," Penguin says, a smirk blooming on his face. "Sadly, I don't think the associate I traded him to fully comprehends the weight of Winston's inadequacies. Pity."

"Who did you trade him to?"

Penguin leans back in his chair. "Oh, just an associate of mine with some big plan to kill one small caped crusader. I think you may know him actually, goes by the Scarecrow."

Dick's heart thumps loudly in his chest. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Why, because I don't like Crane," Penguin says with a sneer. "He's chaotic and tends to play with his food rather than just finishing the job. The only reason I gave him Winston was so he'd leave quicker. I don't have time to waste on elaborate over dramatic schemes that are doomed to fail. I'm a businessman."

Call Dick crazy but that seems a little bit too good natured for Gotham's foremost crime lord.

"That's very...generous."

Penguin blinks before throwing back his head in an outright laugh.

"Oh no, little Robin, don't misunderstand." The laughs fade off into a wide grin. "I'm merely saying when I come to kill you, you won't see it coming."

The Penguin sighs, almost regretfully. "Now, I'm afraid that's all the time I have for questions. Goodbye, children. I hope you don't mind the cold."

With that, the floor drops out from under Dick and Batgirl and they're plunged into the dark, freezing waters of Gotham Harbor.

ooooo

Dick is still shivering slightly when Alfred brings him another blanket. He takes it, gratefully, and wraps it around his shoulders.

"So, I take it that, despite your near exposure to hypothermia, the conversation was a success?"

Dick nods eagerly. "It's all fitting together. Scarecrow was reported missing from his cell two months ago and has been practically unseen since then. He was planning this. He must've recruited Poison Ivy, too. That explains the plant." He pauses. "Though, it doesn't tell me how many more might be working with him."

"A terrifying thought," Alfred agrees. "One that would almost certainly warrant assistance."

He bites his lip, glancing up at Alfred cautiously. "You think I should contact Roy?"

"Though I am sure Mr. Harper's aid would not be amiss, I was actually suggesting a more permanent option. Someone more local and already involved, perhaps."

"Batgirl's a civilian."

"So were you all at one point in time," Alfred reminds. "And, by the looks of it, this Batgirl seems determined not to stay a civilian for long. You did mention she helped hack into the security system tonight. There's undoubtedly been less auspicious starts to heroism."

"I thought you disproved of kids becoming vigilantes," Dick asks. "Why do you think we should push her into it?"

Alfred raises an eyebrow. "Don't mistake me, young sir. I do not believe we should 'push' anyone into anything, especially not something as risky as this lifestyle. However, I remember also saying that certain people could not be stopped from choosing it themselves. If that's the case with Ms. Batgirl, then providing her with additional support becomes merely a necessary kindness."

Dick frowns.

"I will also admit, Master Dick, that it would ease my mind considerably to know you would no longer be protecting Gotham alone."

He sighs and turns back to the computer. "I'll think about it, Alfred. First, though, I'm figuring out who she is."

"I assume you have a lead," Alfred asks, allowing the change in subject.

He holds up a small evidence bag. "I grabbed a few strands of hair while she was hacking into the security system. Running it through the cave's databases now."

He pulls up the ongoing search, almost finished, and smiles. The cave's databases are the best in the world. Not just Gotham criminals but from every police precinct around the globe. Not to mention, all the various organizations-legal and otherwise-that Dick or Bruce had managed to hack into. And the private files that Batman had kept on every Wayne family associate. And the other files on League members and their families. To put it nicely, Batman had always leaned a bit far towards the paranoid.

The computer pings in the satisfying tone of a search being finished and he pulls up the results, feeling triumphant.

The results come up. Dick stares.

Behind him, Alfred lets out a quiet, "Oh, dear."

ooooo

The next night, Dick is in his Robin uniform and standing on a roof without making even the slightest move towards the cover of shadows. He doesn't need to; he wants to be seen. He's waiting.

He doesn't have to wait long.

Batgirl drops onto the roof barely thirty minutes after he arrived. "Hey, nice to see you waited. I heard that Scarecrow's been spotted by Park Row so looks like Penguin told and-

"Barbara."

Batgirl stops, cuts off right in the middle of her sentence and stares at him with wide eyes.

"So it is you," Dick says and something in his chest feels like it's sinking. " You're Batgirl."

"Yeah," Batgirl- Barbara admits slowly and let's out an awkward laugh. "How'd you figure it out?"

He holds up the evidence bag. "Grabbed it last night and ran it at the cave."

Her eyes narrow. "The cave had my DNA on file ?"

"It doesn't matter," Dick says, even though it does. It so does, because this is Barbara . This is Babs, his best civilian friend now staring at him under a mask. "I've have to go after Scarecrow. Don't follow me."

With that, Dick's heading to the edge of the roof and reaching for his grappling gun, not even daring to look back.

"Wait! You're not just going to leave me here! We're working together. "

"No, we're not," Dick says, voice firm.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

"Yes , I am."

Dick doesn't bother answering, aiming with the grappling gun.

Behind him, Barbara swears. "Dang it, Dick , quit being such a freaking martyr all the time!"

Dick freezes, turning back slowly to face Barbara.

She's glaring at him, as much anger as it is something unreadable.

"I know it's you, Dick Grayson," Barbara says quietly. "I've known for half a year. You're my best friend. Did you really think I wouldn't notice all the bruises, how you're always tired the day after a big Titans' mission, the way you're always busy at night, the scars ."

He swallows. "Why didn't you…"

"Say anything?" Barbara shrugs. "You had enough on your plate already. Why make it harder?" She takes a breath, steeling her nerves in a way that's so utterly familiar that Dick feels like an idiot for not recognizing her sooner. "I'm not trying to make anything harder for you, Dick. I'm trying to make it easier."

"Please, Babs," Dick says even though he knows it's hopeless. "You can't come. Not on this."

"No, Dick," she says and she's already walking to stand next to him on the roof. "You just can't stop me."

ooooo

Un- affectionately nicknamed "Crime Alley", Park Row is a bad street to be on even by Gotham standards. Other than the wide and varied illegal activities, the only conceivable reason to go there is a small long closed theater that hosts the memorial for Martha and Thomas Wayne.

Dick prays that's not an omen.

Park Row is also where the Scarecrow was last reported.

Barbara's still behind, staying as close as a shadow, as Dick makes his way across roofs and alleys. Her presence is a weight in his chest that makes him feel like he's drowning and as bad as it would be for Gotham, he hopes that they don't find anything tonight.

It's a hope without reason. By the looks of it, Barbara will just be back the next night and the next night and then every night until she…

Dick takes a breath and focuses.

Scarecrow's a genius but he's not subtle. He likes a show too much.

Two hours into the patrol and Dick sees him. Crane is in full costume and ducking between buildings in all his gangly glory. He grimaces when he sees the costume; it's too blatant. He's starting to get careless, eager for a confrontation. Dangerous.

Dick turns to Barbara and presses something into her hands.

She tilts her head quizzically, holding up the syringe.

"Antidote for fear toxin," Dick whispers. "It's formulated from the last we had available so Crane's likely changed it by now. It still should be mostly effective. If you get hit, use it immediately ."

Barbara nods and finally there's a hint of fear there, he almost asks her to stay on the roof, but then the fear turns back to determination and the chance is gone.

Scarecrow's approaching an old warehouse so Dick motions that Barbara take one side and he takes the other so they can corner him. Optimistically, he will already have subdued him before Scarecrow can act. In Dick's experience, optimistic outcomes rarely see the light of day in Gotham.

Barbara's already disappeared to the other side so he swings down and catches himself on the side of a warehouse window.

He waits and when Scarecrow comes running into the warehouse, Dick throws in some knockout gas and follows it quickly with a bola aimed directly at Scarecrow's feet.

The Scarecrow just laughs, twisting out of the bola's path with all the sharpness of a spider.

"Nice try," Scarecrow taunts, "but Penguin already dropped me a warning, avaricious as it may have been. And I'm simply afraid now's not the time for the grand finale." The masks' smile stretches unnaturally wide. "I wouldn't want to rush your death after all."

That's all he gets before Barbara hits him hard from behind.

The laughter stops and Scarecrow leaps back out of range, slashing out at Barbra with too sharp gloves that Dick is sure are covered in toxins.

Dick flies into the fray, his kick landing on Scarecrow's face with a satisfying crunch and knocking the man to the ground. Scarecrow recovers quickly and Dick has to duck a half a second away from being clawed in the face.

Barbara's coming up on his right and Scarecrow notices as soon as he does.

"So, you brought more to die," Scarecrow spits out and then he twists his arm forward with enough power to sink sharp tipped fingers right into Barbara's throat if she moved just a tiny bit slower.

Dick panics, throwing out a block to stop the arm and not paying attention to what Scarecrow does with his other hand.

A sickly green smoke explodes between the two 's heartbeat starts beating erratically as Scarecrow laughs unseen behind the fog.

"Until next time, little bird. Don't worry, I made friends, too."

The toxin's starting to kick in with whispers at the back of his mind and Dick pushes it away to track the sound of Scarecrow's footsteps. To the left and getting further, he gets ready to swing after him and-

Barbara screams.

Dick freezes as if cold water is dropped down his spine. He looks around frantically until he sees Barbara on the ground, looking around with wide terrified eyes while the antidote syringe is clenched tightly in her hands.

Crap. Crap, Dick should have thought about this. No one can truly expect the effects of fear toxin the very first time, much less keep stable enough to administer the antidote.

He eases down gently by her side, careful not to make any sudden movements as he tries to pry the syringe out of her hands.

"D-dick?" Barbara's eyes are slowly trying to focus on him and Dick nods, reaching out his free hand to grab hers.

"Yeah, Babs, it's me. I'm here. Just give me one second and you'll feel a lot better. Trust me."

He finally gets the syringe and sticks it as gently as possible in Barbara's arm. He pushes it down and watches as Barbara's breathing starts to get slower.

"You're not dead," she asks and her voice is so painfully hesitant.

Dick swallows. "No, Babs, I'm right here. I'm fine."

Failure, a voice whispers in the back of his mind, a reminder that he still needs to take the antidote himself. Mistake. Not Worthy. Never Worthy.

Dick eases Barbara off the floor, supporting most of her weight on his shoulders.

Just for a second, the shadows warp, getting darker until a figure appears from the shadows.

"You failed me," booms the deep voice of Batman. "You failed everyone. How many will you lose now? How did you think you could ever be Robin without me?"

Breathing heavily, Dick stares at the shadow and carefully administers the second antidote into his arm.

The figure doesn't fade from his view until long after they've left the warehouse.

ooooo

Barbara's still out of it, most likely from lack of exposure to the antidote rather than the toxin, so Dick takes her back to the cave to recover. It's not like he has many more secrets to protect.

By the time dawn breaks over a bleak Gotham Saturday, both the toxin and antidote have run through their systems, leaving Barbara's unconscious and curled up in the cave's med bay, while Dick sits by the computer, exhausted but far too nervous to risk dreaming. Instead, he does what he can by running the new fear toxin through the computer and formulating a better antidote. They're lucky, Crane hadn't had time to modify it much. Though, that does raise the much scarier question of what he was doing instead.

The question is answered a few hours later when the cave computer blares out an alert before pulling up the Gotham News Network.

"Breaking News: Gotham Police and experts at Gotham Mercy General hospital are advising parents to keep children indoors and under constant supervision," a reporter announces, face grim as she stands outside a local playground. "Fear toxin has been found in child sized Robin masks, distributed in bulk over playgrounds and residential neighborhoods. No deaths have been reported but at least twelve children have been hospitalized. If your child has been exposed, please report to Gotham Mercy General immediately for treatment."

Standing stock still, he watches as the newscast runs, continuing on into symptoms of fear toxin and police efforts to clear the masks from the streets. Dick feels sick. In fact, he kind of thinks he might throw up but he pushes that down and reaches for the keyboard with shaking hands.

He pulls up Gotham Mercy's medical files and starts reading. Twelve cases. Twelve children , all under the age of ten. All of them poisoned though, thankfully, with a dosage too low to cause permanent damage. Who knows how many would come by the end of the day?

"Shit," he swears under his breath and looks to his own Robin mask, basically identical and laying innocently on the cave's table.

His stomach boils and Dick has a crazy urge to just….to just crumple up the mask and throw it away. To burn it. It and all his other Robin gear until it's just nothing. Until it's just ashes, fit enough to buried outside next to Bruce's empty coffin.

"Dick?"

He doesn't turn around.

"Dick," Barbara calls, coming to stand behind him. "What's wrong?"

He wordlessly pulls up a write up of the news report and waits.

As she reads, Barbara's hands go white where she's clenching his chair.

"...oh," she says finally. "Well, I guess this explains the text from my dad."

She holds her phone out to him and Dick sees the text, have to work late, stay inside, followed by Barbara's short, ok.

Wonder what the Commissioner would think if he knew Barbara had never even been home?

He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat and doesn't look at her.

"Dick," she says again, softly, turning his head until he has to look at her, "tell me what you're thinking. Please."

Dick feels like he can't breathe. "...I'm sorry."

"I don't understand."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, voice breaking on the last word. "This is my fault. All of it. You getting hurt. Those kids getting poisoned. All of it. I thought I could do it. I thought I could be Robin without Batman but I can't. I can't, Babs! And the longer I try, the more everyone's going to get hurt until there's nothing left. Until everything I care about is dead and I'm…."

Alone. Failed, again.

"Oh, Dick," he hears her say and then he's being folded up into a hug, "you self-flagellating, sacrificing idiot. When are you going to learn you don't have to carry around the weight of the world all the time? That not everything that happens is your fault?"

"Babs, I can't do it," he digs his fingers into her shoulder, holding her closer. "I can't be Robin like this. Not without him. I can't be Robin alone."

"You don't have to be," she whispers. "I'm here. I can help. I won't let you be alone."

Dick's heartbeat stutters. "I can't lose another friend, either. I can't lose you, Babs."

Barbara pulls back, holding his hands snugly against hers. "I can't lose you either, Boy Wonder. Gotham's not the only one I want to save."

He doesn't realize he's crying until she brings a hand to wipe away a tear.

"Train me," Barbara says. "Give me as much training as you think I need and I'll keep going. But, don't keep pushing me away, Dick. Don't tell me to leave again. You're my best friend. And I'd give up the world for you, Dick Grayson, but I'm done giving you up for the world."

He breathes. "...Babs."

Barbara smiles. "I told you, Dick. It's Batgirl."

ooooo

"I'm not saying they're not doing good work," says Jay Garrick as another reporter shoves a microphone in his face, "I'm saying it's work they shouldn't be doing. They're children. Every time they put on a mask, they're encouraging others to do the same and it's only a matter of time before someone gets killed. Trust me, I know. The kids poisoned by the Robin masks are just a small part of a much larger problem."

Barbara reaches around him to click off the news feed. "Stop listening to that, Dick. It doesn't help anything."

"He might be right," Dick admits.

"Or he might be wrong," Barbara says with a shrug. "Or the entire issue might be pointless because 'children' or not, we're the only ones actually getting things done. It doesn't help much to say something's a problem if there's no other solution."

Dick doesn't know if agrees with that but he offers her a small smile anyway.

"Now," she asks, "what have you been doing besides beating yourself up?"

He rolls his eyes and obligingly pulls up the other computer tab. "Nothing on Scarecrow. Cameras picked up the Riddler out by the Burnley Freight Yards."

On the screen, the Riddler swings his legs while sitting on an unused train compartment, twirling his cane as he goes.

Barbara frowns. "What's he doing?"

"By the looks of it, absolutely nothing. I think it's a trap."

"Penguin said Scarecrow was trying to recruit other villains," she says, worrying her lip. "And Scarecrow said he had 'friends'. Riddler probably knows something and we know where he is, it might be our biggest lead."

"I know," he sighs. "But a trap's still a trap."

Barbara smiles. "And that's why you have me as backup."

He doesn't answer, flipping his mask over in his hands.

"Dick, don't push me out."

He sighs and stands, heading for a case right beside the batarangs. He tosses her a comm. "Stay in the shadows but in a place where you can still observe the freight yard. Riddler might not know about you yet and if we need it, it's better to have the element of surprise."

Barbara nods, putting the comm in her ear and slipping on her mask.

"And, Babs….please, be careful," he says quietly.

Her smile goes soft. "You, too."

She's heading to the cave exit with Dick right behind her when his phone buzzes with a text alert from Roy.

Saw the news, looked bad. Need help?

Dick hesitates and looks up briefly to see Barbara waiting for him.

He texts back before following her.

Actually, I already have some.

ooooo

By the time Robin approaches the freight yard, the Riddler is merrily swinging his cane to bash in the windows of old trains.

When he sees Dick, he spins around to point the cane at him.

"Riddle me this, hmmmm, what's a bird without a bat?"

Dick doesn't react. "I want to ask you about Scarecrow."

The Riddler sighs dramatically, bringing the cane back in a wide arc until the steel tip smashes against the train with a loud crunch!

"No, no, no, that's not how the game works, you see. Let's try again. What's a bird without a bat?"

He stays quiet.

"Ahhh, maybe I should rephrase. What's one tiny, little, bright colored bird without the Bat ?"

Dick grits his teeth.

Riddler pouts, his mouth turning down in a garish parody of sympathy.

"Well say, I suppose you don't know either."

"I need to ask you about Scarecrow," Dick repeats.

"Oh! A new game," Riddler says, clapping his hands together. "But, now the question is this: am I willing to play it?"

"Unless, you want to end up in Arkham's maximum security ward next time you're admitted."

The Riddler laughs, delighted. "That's not really much of a threat now, is it? Hmmm, some things never really start and never really end, you know? You put me in Arkham, I escape, we fight, put me in Arkham, escape, fight, Arkham, escape, fight, Arkham….It's like a circle! Just like a circle really, no beginning and no ending." The Riddler tilts his head in consideration. "You know I think I will tell you about Scarecrow. Would you like to know why?"

Dick gets the feeling that he really doesn't. "Why, Riddler?"

"Because some things do have endings, don't they," the Riddler asks. "It turns out bats have endings, after all?" The Riddler lowers his voice, leaning closer like a child at a sleepover. "Can I tell you a secret? ….I don't really like endings much, do you? Not like how the Scarecrow wants."

Dick blinks. "You don't want me to die?"

The Riddler snorts, looking for a moment entirely sane. "Well, I'm not the Joker, am I? That maniac's dead." A wide smile breaks out on Riddler's face and the madness is back. "Besides, I'm fine with just Robin. Joker was right about one thing: you always have had the prettiest screams. The more the merrier, I say! You all die so easily, after all, and I really do loathe endings."

Dick fights back an instinctive shiver because really, it can never be understated just how truly insane Gotham can get.

"So, Robin," the Riddler chippers happily, "riddle me this. One big bad Scarecrow wants to get rid of one itsy bitsy bird. So, who does he call? Not the Riddler! No, no, this Scarecrow is very, very rude and not all interested in the fun games the Riddler can offer. Instead, he gets help from some other friends. Another fat, greedy bird gives him a few helpers to play with. A pretty rose gives him some new toys. And last, a big old pig gives him somewhere to play. Here's the riddle now: where would the mean Mister Scarecrow go?"

Dick runs the information through his head. "Penguin lent Scarecrow the men, Poison Ivy gave the lab equipment, and Professor Pyg supplied the hideouts." He takes another second. "That means Scarecrow's working out of the slaughterhouse."

"Hmmm, maybe." the Riddler shrugs. "If so, you certainly didn't hear it from me."

There's the sound of a train approaching and Riddler grins. "Now, that sounds like either my ride or yours. Tick tock, Robin, who knows what Scarecrow's working on next? I do hope it doesn't kill you!"

The train flies by beside them and, before Dick can say anything, the Riddler jumps, catching his cane on the railing and swinging himself on board.

Dick lets him go. There are more urgent things to do.

He clicks on his comm. "Batgirl, meet me down here. Scarecrow's at the South Channel slaughterhouse."

"Gotcha," Barbara's voice comes through. "What's our next move?"

Dick smiles grimly. "I say we surprise him for once."

ooooo

"Okay," Barbara says, focusing the binoculars on the slaughterhouse. "I know we said that the thing with the Riddler was probably a trap and in turns out, he just wanted to offer his creepy version of help. But, this here? This is definitely a trap."

"Yeah, I know," Dick agrees, "and probably a lethal one, even by Scarecrow's standards. That's why I'm going to spring it."

She raises an eyebrow. "I don't need to tell you how crazy that sounds, right? Like you can hear it, too. Please tell me you can hear it, too."

"Believe it or not, I actually do have a plan."

"Which is?"

Dick takes a breath, stalling more for himself than he is for Barbara.

"It's dangerous….I'm going to need your help,"

Barbara smiles. "Anytime, Boy Wonder."

ooooo

Surprisingly, even when walking into a trap, Dick isn't stupid enough to use the front door.

Instead, he uses the window.

Swinging down from the roof, he hits the window using his full momentum, shattering the glass and landing in a crouch inside.

"Give it up, Scarecrow," he calls. "I know you're here."

Speakers in the ceiling spark to life and Dick hears Crane laugh. "Right on schedule for your grand finale. Trust me, Robin, it will be a real scream ."

Green gas starts flowing from the ceiling and Dick quickly sticks on his rebreather, scanning the room for signs of Scarecrow.

A shadow moves through the fog.

"A gas mask," the speaker sounds. "That seems like cheating."

The shadow moves and a cleaver swings down, missing Dick by centimeters. Under the pig mask, Professor Pyg scowls at him, clenching a cleaver in one hand and a scalpel in the other.

"Not perfect," Professor Pyg mutters, mainly to himself. "Nowhere near good enough. Maybe after some work."

"I told you," Scarecrow says over the speaker. "I've got friends now, too."

Professor Pyg dives forward with the scalpel and Dick deflects using the armor on his arm.

"Where are you, Scarecrow," Dick calls into the fog.

"Here ," a voice whispers directly behind him and Dick barely has time to duck before claws emerge from the fog, aiming directly at his head.

Dick moves quickly, positioning himself to where they're both in view and holding up his escrima sticks in a defensive position.

Under the mask, Dick can just make out Crane's grin.

"Ready to die, little Robin," The Scarecrow asks, brandishing gloves with sharp points coated in some kind of liquid. "Good news, I finally had time to reformulate my toxin. This one is much more potent than the one I was forced to use on the masks." He pauses for a moment in false contemplation. "Why, I'd say even one little scratch and you'll die screaming. If you don't go insane first, that is."

Beside him, Professor Pyg lets out a warning growl. "That's not the agreement, Crane."

"Right, right." The Scarecrow moves around the edges of Dick's defense, looking for a weakness. "Pyg here wants a crack at you first-a special little doll for his collection." A shrug. "Personally, I think he'll fail but it will be so entertaining to watch him try."

Professor Pyg thrust forward again with the cleaver and Dick barely bats it away before dodging quickly to the left to avoid Scarecrow's claws.

"You said there was another," Pyg mutters, stabbing forward with the scalpel. "I wanted two for the next experiment."

The Scarecrow tilts his head, the motion as sharp as the claws. "Where is your new friend?"

"She couldn't come," Dick pants out, hitting Pyg hard as he moves too close.

Scarecrow's nails barely miss his throat, driving Dick closer to the wall. "You're alone, then? How very….ill considered."

Dick grins. "Who said I was alone?"

Just then, police sirens blare out from the front of the building as red and blue lights up the windows.

The Scarecrow snarls, whipping his head around to face Dick. "Exactly how many more do you want to die, Robin? Did you really think I don't have more fear gas? How long do you think your cop friends will survive under it? How many do you think will die crying out for their hero ?"

Dick's face pales dramatically. "No, wait! Scarecrow!"

The Scarecrow turns to Pyg. "Keep him occupied while I take care of our visitors up front."

"I'm not your lackey, Crane," Professor Pyg snipes back but Scarecrow's already disappeared.

Dick doesn't have much time. Not if he wants to get out with everybody alive.

"Not his lackey, at all. I'm an artist, you know." Pyg moves closer, holding up his scalpel. "I'm going to make you all…. perfect ."

Professor Pyg swings the cleaver forward directed right at Dick's stomach and Dick decides to stop holding back.

He jumps, dodging the blade in the air and using Pyg's shoulder as a springboard to flip over him and land behind him. Pyg growls, swinging blindly behind him and Dick kicks at his knee, sending him down hard before he can land the hit.

Pyg's fast when he needs to be. Still on the ground, he throws the scalpel right at Dick's chest and by the time Dick's deflected it, Pyg's already up and charging forward with the cleaver.

Dick throws a batarang that Pyg's cleaver knocks out of the air as if it were a fly. Dick gets ready to dodge again before…

A bola comes from behind, wrapping around Pyg's arms and legs and sending him to the ground.

Barbara lands behind him, wearing a smile. "How'd I do?"

"Amazing." Dick kicks the cleaver away before aiming a well placed punch to Professor Pyg's head, knocking him unconscious. "Scarecrow bought it entirely. He's still up front handling the 'police'."

Barbara frowns as he makes sure Pyg is out and secure. "The lights and siren sound effects won't hold him back for long."

"I know," Dick says. "He'll be back in probably a few seconds. How long until phase two of the plan?"

"Roughly three minutes," Barbara says.

"Then, let's take him out quick. Avoid the gloves, they're coated with the new fear toxin."

She nods and that's all they have time for before a figure comes tearing out of the darkness.

"A trick," the Scarecrow sneers, swinging his claws down fast and deadly. "A clever little trick from a clever little bird and bat. Not clever enough though."

It was a hard lesson to learn but Dick has come to understand that there is a time for quips and a time for focusing your entire attention to making sure you don't get disemboweled. This situation falls in the later category, unfortunately.

Dick flips up above Scarecrow and aims a kick to the back of his neck. Scarecrow turns lightning quick and Dick has to dodge in midair as the claws almost catch his leg.

A batarang flies by, exploding a bit too close for Dick's comfort but does the job of knocking Scarecrow away and disorienting him for half a second. Barbara hits him the moment he goes down, kicking at one of his arms hard.

There's the sharp sound of an impact and Scarecrow growls. Dick sees his opening.

Scarecrow is focused on Barbara, injured arm drawn further in as the other one lashes out. Two batarangs spin out of Dick's hands and into the air.

There's a sound of slicing fabric and the batarangs embed in the wall.

The gloves fall to the ground and Scarecrow's eyes follow them.

"Now," Dick shouts.

Barbara punches him and the Scarecrow steps back, right into the path of Dick's bola before going down hard with arms wrapped secured tightly at his side.

"Secure the gloves," Dick calls, already leaping forward to snap bat cuffs around Scarecrow's unprotected wrists.

"Got them," Barbara answers and Dick throws her a glance to see the gloves wrapped carefully in a spare piece of fabric that might be her cape.

The Scarecrow laughs from where he's tied up and cuffed on the ground. "So, the two little children think they took down the Scarecrow and a pig, do they? But, how long can they hold us? How long until I get out? How long until I watch them scream and moan until their little hearts give up out of terror?"

Police sirens go off outside of the building. Real ones this time.

Dick smiles. "Guess we'll find out. If you manage to get out of Arkham, that is. I hear they updated their security protocols but I'm sure you'll see for yourself real soon."

The Scarecrows snarls again, mouth opening under the mask to spew out another vicious threat when Barbara steps forward and covers it with good old fashioned duct tape.

Dick almost laughs.

ooooo

After Scarecrow and Professor Pyg have been hauled away in a maximum security transport van and the entire scene is covered with police tape, Commissioner Gordon steps out the back of the building and into the moonlight.

"Nice job in there. DA's going to put them away for life, as much good as that ever does."

Still in costume, Dick steps out from the shadows.

"Thanks, but I didn't do it alone."

Commissioner Gordon smiles. "That's what I heard Pyg muttering. Something about a….Batgirl? Sounds interesting enough."

Somehow, Dick doesn't think he'd be saying that if he knew who was under the mask, but that's not his secret to tell.

"Truthfully, kid, I'm just happy you're not working alone anymore." Gordon sighs, looking towards the city. "Gotham's hard enough, you need a partner to get you through it. Even if you're Robin."

Dick frowns, weighing his next words against his tongue. "...Commissioner, I don't know if I feel much like a Robin anymore. I think...I think whoever I was then might have died with Batman."

Commissioner Gordon regards him carefully. "Son, let me tell you something I've learned from a long time working with things that aren't quite what they seem. I doesn't matter what you call yourself, what matters is what you do." Gordon shrugs. "Don't feel like calling yourself 'Robin', then don't. Just keep doing what's right. And when you figure out a name that fits, make sure you let me know. Robin or whoever you are, Gotham needs you."

Dick smiles and when Gordon next turns around, he's not surprised at all to find himself standing alone.

ooooo

"Jonathan Crane and Lazlo Valentin, alternatively known as the Scarecrow and Professor Pyg, were arrested last night in connection with various death threats and the Robin mask poisonings. They are currently in holding at Arkham Asylum until trial later this month. Police have issued a statement that the arrest was thanks to none other than Gotham's very own hero, Robin. But, that's not all, sources close to the station reveal that Robin might be working with a new-"

Dick mutes the television as Barbara wonders into the manor's living room.

"Hey," she greets, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and folding herself next to him on the couch, "Alfred let me in. Sorry for having to run off so fast last night, didn't want to chance running into my dad."

"It's fine," he reassures and she smiles, quirking an eye at the news channel.

"You look pleased. Glad to see that Gotham's finally got their head out of their ass and remembered why Robin's a hero in the first place?"

He shrugs. "Public opinion's fickle. Trust me, they'll be right back to demanding our capes hung on the wall come the next Blackgate breakout."

Barbara flicks him in the head. "Pessimism doesn't suit you, Dick Grayson."

"Ouch, sorry." He grins. "Anyway, that's not what I was thinking about."

"Hmmm?"

"I think…" Dick takes a breath, "I think I'm going to give up being Robin. I can't do it. Not without Batman."

"Dick." Barbara straightens beside him. "We talked about this. It'll be okay just give it time and-"

"I know," he says simply. "Let me finish. I'm giving up Robin but I'm not giving up everything else. Protecting Gotham, the Titans, they're who I am. Robin, though. Robin was Batman's partner. It was my mother's name for me. I chose it to honor their memory and then it became so much more than that but…" Dick shakes his head. "It will always be important to me but it's not who I am anymore."

"Then, who are you?".

His expression softens. "Let's just say I think I got an idea for a name change already."

"It's not…" she hesitates warily. "It's not Batman, is it?"

Dick's head shoots up in surprise before shaking his head immediately. "No. Definitely not. Actually, it doesn't even have anything to do with him, really. It's an old Kryptonian story Superman told me once. A story about rebirth."

"Oh," Barbara relaxes, "okay, that sounds….that sounds better."

"Yeah," he agrees softly before clearing his throat. "There's something else I was thinking about, too?"

"More than just a name change," Barbara teases.

Dick nods seriously. "I was thinking that...that just because I'm not Batman's partner anymore doesn't mean I don't need a partner." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "And I'm not saying I'll always be a good partner. I'll...get worried and I still reserve the right to freak out if you get hurt and...and, well, just don't...don't di-get too hurt. Just please, if you can, don't do that. But yeah," he looks up, "if you still want that training, what do you say?"

Barbara doesn't smile, instead she just looks at him as if understands how hard that all was for him to say, how much harder it's going to be to do. Dick thinks he might love her even more for it. She doesn't smile but there is a light there that wasn't there before, unique and different from the one that went out two years ago.

"Partners," she agrees.

She doesn't smile and neither does he. But, there is hope and that's enough.

ooooo

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviews are always appreciated!

Coming Next: Year 3: A Judas Among Titans